Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
We continue working a bit more before Frankie approaches, shirtless, covered in dirt, and sweating from his own—clearly much more strenuous—work.
“Apparently, I signed up for the wrong job,” Frankie teases me with a wink as he bumps against my shoulder.
He looks hot as the sun glistens off his body, reminding me of what it was like messing around with him the other night, making me wish that we could do more stuff like that.
“What have you guys been up to?” he asks.
“Just planting some flowers,” his mom replies, “and I was just telling Evan some embarrassing stories from when you were a kid.”
“You did what?” Frankie asks, his expression twisting up with worry.
She throws her head back as she laughs.
It’s an uninhibited, free laugh. It’s not the sort of laugh I would have expected from her before we met, considering most of what I’ve heard has been about the dark time she and Frankie experienced with his father. I didn’t picture this fun, easygoing woman with such a great sense of humor.
As she looks to Frankie, her eyes fill with appreciation and sincere adoration for her son, she says, “I’m only teasing.”
“Wait, I want to hear an embarrassing story about Frankie,” I insist.
“This is why I never introduced the two of you.” Frankie folds his arms so that those thick biceps and triceps flex. He shakes his head.
“Oh, come on, Frankie.” I approach him. “I already know how to get to you.”
I reach for him, sliding my hand under his arm and he pulls away quickly, a broad grin stretching across his face.
“You’re playing with fire, Evan. You’re gonna get burned.”
“And you might just get tickled.”
I’m too tempted not to attack. I reach out and wiggle my finger under his arm.
He pulls away swiftly, already laughing at the mere thought of me touching him, so I keep going at him, and he stumbles back, hitting a tree root with his heel.
“Frankie!” I say, grabbing him to keep him from falling, but he stumbles and we both go falling into the shallow part of the pond, me landing on top of him as water splashes around us.
We both curse as we quickly scramble to reach into our pockets.
“Phones, phones, phones,” I say quickly as we retrieve them. Fortunately, though our asses and wallets are soaked, our phones survived the accident.
“Thank God!” I exclaim.
We rise from the water, standing ankle-deep in the pond. He takes my phone and wallet from me like he’s going to check to make sure they’re okay, then he sets them on the shore along with his own. I start to get out when he hooks an arm around me and lifts me into the air the way he carried those bags of pine chips.
“Frankie! Frankie!”
“Uh-uh. You gotta get disciplined for that.”
It reminds me of when we’re in puppy training mode and I’m disobedient.
I’m laughing so hard that I can’t even fight him as he pulls us into a deeper part of the pond, dropping me in and squatting down beside me.
Soon, we’re splashing each other, laughing.
I can hear Freddie and Frankie’s mom laughing at us as we keep splashing. There’s this lightness in Frankie’s eyes, a playfulness that’s so familiar to me.
Finally, I stop splashing and call out, “Uncle, uncle!”
He stops and approaches me. “Uncle? First you want to call me Daddy, and now you want to call me Uncle?” He winks, and I’m a fit of chuckles as we gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment. I’m genuinely appreciating just being here with him, having a good time, being soaking wet and ridiculous, and…most importantly, letting go.
It reminds me of the puppy play.
No, I can’t completely let go yet, but a moment like this reminds me that I’ve come a long way since we started.
That it’s helped me free up a bit more in real life. If it weren’t for Frankie, I wouldn’t be able to truly enjoy this moment with him the way I am now, and I’m so appreciative of that.
His gaze shifts down to my lips briefly before he turns, and I follow his gaze to his mom, who stands on the shore, my phone in her hand. She’s clearly taking a picture of us.
“Mom,” he calls out.
She giggles.
“I’m sorry, mijo. You two just looked too cute. I had to. It’s just a picture, but I should have gone Facebook Live with it.”
“I bet you would have,” Frankie teases.
“It’s a really cute picture.”
As we make it to the shore, Frankie helps me out of the pond, and we realize that we don’t have many options for drying off, so we just stand there, soaked, as Frankie’s mom shows us the pic she took.
We’re wearing the biggest fucking smiles ever as we gaze into each other’s eyes.
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a picture of me grinning so much. There are plenty of photos of me showing off my pearly whites, particularly back when I was modeling. But in those, I always had to force it, offer the broadest, fakest grin possible for the camera.